


Mad Girl's Love Song

by LeFay



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Car Accidents, Concussions, Drunk Driving, F/M, Hallucinations, Inspired by Poetry, Poetry, Post-Book 2: The Wicked King, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-31 04:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeFay/pseuds/LeFay
Summary: "I think I made you up inside my head"----I don’t see the truck until it’s too late. I have only a split second to react and lunge to push Oak out of the way.  He rolls onto the lawn of a nearby house. I roll into the wheels of the oncoming vehicle.Inspired by the poem "Mad Girl's Love Song" by Sylvia Plath.





	Mad Girl's Love Song

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after The Wicked King. Minor spoilers.  
Full credit to Sylvia Plath for this most lovely poem.  
The characters belong to Holly Black.

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;_  
_ I lift my lids and all is born again._  
_ (I think I made you up inside my head.)_

I don’t see the truck until it’s too late. The red pickup blurs around the corner of the street just as Oak and I are crossing. I have only a split second to react and lunge to push Oak out of the way. He screams and tires screech on the asphalt. I lose my balance and fall, just as Oak trips over the sidewalk and rolls onto the lawn of a nearby house.

I roll into the wheels of the oncoming vehicle. Then everything turns black.

*

I must regain consciousness for a moment. Or moments. There are blue and red flashing lights and sirens that don’t remind me of mermaids or banshees but sound harsh and electronic. I can hear Oak crying. I can hear him demanding to be let go, demanding to reach me.

_Don’t let him see me, _I plead with no one. But I feel his tiny, smooth hand on my cheek and I know he has unintentionally glamoured all of those around him. The paramedics have no choice but to give in to his wishes. I silently pray that he hasn’t let his disguise slip and still resembles a cherubic elementary school boy.

I can’t see anything. My vision is a mess of blurs and I can’t tell which way is up. There is a pain in my head unlike anything I’ve felt before. If it wasn’t so intense I might be able to fear for the parts of my body I can no longer feel.

Although I can’t see them, I can tell by the noise that a crowd of people is gathering around me. We’re making a scene, I think. Well, not Oak, just me. My useless broken body is making a scene in the middle of the road in mortal suburbia. I know I need to move. I need to stand up, brush off the dirt and walk off the fall like I have many times before. But there’s a terrifying part of me that knows it won’t happen this time; I will not be walking away from this. I feel an odd desire to cry.

“Drunk,” I hear someone say in an angry voice. “The man that caused this wreck was drunk.” I can’t possibly laugh but there is some thin connection formed in my mind about the dangers of drunken men.

“Jude,” a voice says, coming from the shadowy blurs of light and darkness. “Jude, you’re going to be okay.” It’s Vivi. “You’re going to be okay. Stay with us.” Her voice is calming and oddly maternal. She was at the apartment. I was walking Oak home from school. How did she get here so quickly?

I have a disorienting sensation that I am being lifted. I can feel hands hold certain parts of my body, wrapping an odd, stiff object around my neck. Still, no shapes settle into focus. Pulses of bright red are the only shades I can identify. “We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Vivi says, sounding far away.

Hospital. Drunk driver. Car accident. Car. Car. Cardan. And now I can laugh, although no sound comes out, no smile or grin bends my lips. You sent me away. You sent me here. How fitting that one of your worst vices would follow me. Track me down and run me over like I was nothing more than the dirt on your shoes.

I feel a needle prick my neck and everything turns black again.

_The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,_  
_ And arbitrary blackness gallops in:_  
_ I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead._

*

There’s a beeping sound, keeping time with the throbbing behind my brow. I can just barely crack my eyes open, although even the dim light I see is enough make me shut them again. Vertigo washes over me and I brace my body against the wave of nausea. I have a vague sense of déjà vu, of having woken to this feeling and this strange room before.

I focus on breathing, but I realize air is blowing into my mouth automatically. My chest aches as I inhale. I can still feel the stiff object around my neck, although my head now rests on something soft. An instinctual part of my mind tells me to get up, move, and assess the situation. But another part of me knows that escape is not possible – not without sight or basic mobility. I try flexing my toes and find that my feet feel miles away and heavy as led. I am vaguely aware that my arms are laid out beside me, but I cannot summon enough energy to move them.

Everything hurts in a bone deep way. There’s no adrenaline in my veins to mask the pain and I’m frightened by how vulnerable I feel. A part of me wants to go back to sleep, to leave consciousness behind once more - at least that way I won’t have to feel the horror defenselessness. As the shame washes over me I find the tiniest morsel of motivation and force my eyes open.

I see nothing but a dark, blank room. There’s a tall bookshelf in one corner and a glass window along the wall. The blinds are pulled down on the window and cracks of light get through. A woman in light blue clothing approaches my bed. I should react to her approach. I should reach for a weapon. But my body is useless as she adjusts a bag of liquid hanging near my pillow and injects a vial into an attached tube. My lids get heavy again. Darkness awake, darkness asleep. I choose sleep.

*

I wake once again, sometime later. I can sense another presence but when I open my eyes I see only shadows. A strange shadow, slightly green in color, is tucked into the corner of the ceiling, above the bookshelf. Another shadow shifts in my periphery, behind the bed. A tiny part of my mind summons up the word “morphine”. And as that word gains meaning a face appears in the shadows at my bedside. It’s a beautiful face, sharp angles encircled by a dark halo. It might almost be familiar except for the sadness.

I blink slowly, once, and the shadows are gone.

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;_  
_ I lift my lids and all is born again._  
_ (I think I made you up inside my head.)_

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was the original inspiration for a full-length fic I've been chewing over for quite some time. If this one-shot receives any positive feedback I might be motivated to write the whole story. 
> 
> Please check out the poem in full online. It's beautiful and there are so many Jude/Cardan-applicable lines and imagery.


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